


Five Things That Never Happened to Graham Coxon

by roomeight



Category: Blur
Genre: M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2012-08-24
Updated: 2012-08-24
Packaged: 2017-11-12 18:49:34
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 674
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/494494
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/roomeight/pseuds/roomeight
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Five moments Graham's life.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Five Things That Never Happened to Graham Coxon

**Author's Note:**

> Warnings/Triggers: Sex, domestic abuse (not sexual), drug-use  
> Written for the [Five Things](http://fanlore.org/wiki/Five_Things) challenge. Except it ended up being six (but keeping the name for sake of the challenge). Some parts are blunt intentionally. Lots of triggers, maybe. Watch out for them. You might trip on them.

 

 

 

 

 

 **1993**  
  
Backstage. The first time you suck me off it's almost like a ruse. It can't be real. Sexual frustration bottled up on a tour bus, that's all it is. But that's how it began. It's not romantic at all the way you push my shoulders down. The smell of the stage and drunken sweat less so. But you always said that whatever seemed too right was never real anyway. You whisper such sweet things in my ear, and I want to believe you. I can't help myself. I'm all too shaken by the thought of the boy with soft blue eyes and blonde hair.  
  
  
 **1995**  
  
Most nights, only physical touch translates. You, pressing me into the back seat of an overpaid cab—our hands, tongue and teeth engaged in a contrived game of cat-and-mouse. It's not long before it's dressing rooms too. Sometimes Alex is there, and sometimes he isn't. And sometimes, I catch Alex out of the corner of my eye, his wine glass empty and a fag hanging loosely from his lips as he watches the both of us.  
  
Sometimes I wonder if you told him to come. I think you like it when he's jealous.  
  
  
 **1997**  
  
The first time I see the light at the end of the tunnel, my skin is rank with red wine sweat and two distinct kinds of shame. I told you I didn't want it, but you gave it to me anyway. That was always you. You held me as it happened, as cold needle pierced virgin skin and took me to a place that made everywhere else after seem like hell. A feeling that would drown out the world, you said. It sounded so wonderful, how could I resist?  
  
We laid there for hours. I remember the way you kissed my fingertips. The mindless phrases we used to say.  
  
I am the ocean and you are the wind. The ocean has no strength without the wind.  
  
Cold, cold, the sea was bitter. The wind had moods. I learned that fast.  
  
"I need you." You would say.  
  
And when I tried to get up to leave you would pull me back.  
  
  
 **1999**  
  
Black and blue bruises on pale skin. My eye is swollen I can barely see my guitar strings today. When Dave asks, I tell him fell down, but I am sure he doesn't believe me.  
  
You never said it was about us. It was about the way Alex looked at me, the way he stared. You didn't trust him, you said. You didn't even trust the band anymore. You said all of these things, but I knew better.  
  
  
 **2000**  
  
I don't know who I'm meant to be now. I'm certainly not Graham Coxon anymore, not like this. I  remember the way you half-heartedly attempted to undress me, to clean up the blood off the floor and to sit me up and give me some dignity. It was the nicest thing thing you'd ever done for me. Maybe the only thing.  
  
Your hands were shaking in the emergency room, that's what Alex told me.  
  
I would have hated you had I not realized years ago that you were incapable of sympathy not because you were cold, but because of your inherent nature.  
  
Our emptiness always seemed to stem from the sense that somehow we had missed the main attraction, and had spent the greater part of our lives trying to figure out exactly what that was.  
  
"We were never meant to be together."  
  
I remembered the way the words rolled off my lips, still stuck to my tongue like dry sandpaper. It was the worst lie I'd ever told.  
  
  
 **2009**  
  
Missy is beautiful. She has your eyes. It's been so long since I've seen you, I'd almost forgotten your face. Strong arms, and a whisper in my ear. I missed those arms. It's not like before, you say, but I don't believe you. I wish I could. I'm all too shaken by the thought of the boy with soft blue eyes and blonde hair.

 

 

 


End file.
